


Sure of Nothing

by cloverfield



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Angst vs Fluff Olympics, M/M, NSFW, Team Fluff, Understudy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angst v.s. Fluff Olympics fic; in which Fai doesn't understand his own intentions any more, and Kurogane does everything but make it easy for him. KuroFai. Complete. NSFW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sure of Nothing

 

* * *

 

_I am sure of nothing so little as my own intentions. - George Byron_

 

* * *

 

The thing was,  _the thing was_ , it wasn’t like he’d actually gone down to the garage with the intention of seduction; just bringing daddy something small to eat while he worked, a little snack for a hard-working man… and that he’d brought Kurogane something a little bit larger to drink ( _the sake bottle clinking merrily against the cups on the tray he carried, alcohol slopping cheerfully back and forth against the glass with every step_ ) was only a sign that he knew how the other man’s mind worked. Fai would have considered it safe to say he knew Kurogane rather well at this stage in their relationship, after all.

It wasn’t like he’d actually  _intended_  to end up with the lovingly crafted and carefully prepared lunch/dinner/midnight snack ( _it was so hard to tell what time it was against the city-scape of Piffle World; so many lights, so much noise, even well into the wee hours of the morning_ ) spilled all over the floor, sandwiches tumbling from their plate, those strange, wafery snacks that Tomoyo-chan had called ‘chips’ scattering over the grease-spattered concrete- and he  _certainly_  hadn’t intended to end up face-down over the hood of Kurogane’s dragonfly racer, his breath fogging hot against the glossy finish in moist, desperate clouds with one of the ninja’s big hands splayed out across the small of his back and sharp teeth nipping at the nape of his neck ( _gods he could_ feel _that rumbling growl reverberating in his bones, could feel it right down to his aching core_ ) while the other curled long, calloused,  _expert_ fingers about him in a gesture both thrillingly possessive and incredibly skilled.

And when Kurogane was satisfied that  _Fai_  was satisfied ( _knees-buckled, breath-hitched, body-shaken, mind-shattered but undeniably_ satisfied _if the slick wetness splattered across that shiny bonnet and the ninja’s own fingers was anything to go by_ ) it wasn’t like he could have actually  _protested_  at the way he’d been man-handled ( _and how!_ ) into a position far more accommodating to the bigger man’s own intentions, the skinny trousers that were apparently known as ‘jeans’ tugged down from his hips to pool abandoned on the oil-stained floor; any words he might have mustered the strength to speak against that crushing onslaught of biting, burning kisses had long since melted into begging and pleading and it was all Fai could do to just hang on ( _sweaty_   _fingers squeaking across the smooth metal of the racer, unable to find purchase on slick paint even as his other hand caught and tangled in dark hair_ ) as Kurogane reminded him exactly  _why_  it was a bad idea to underestimate the ninja’s capabilities in any field, and _especially_  this one.

* * *

In retrospect, he supposed it was his own damn fault for mentioning that he hadn’t thought dear Kuro-tan to be the mechanically-minded type earlier that evening, watching the younger man concentrate on blueprints and diagrams with a determination he’d yet to see matched by the other members of their small group; there had been a smudge of grease across the plane of a tanned cheek, that ( _surprisingly skilled_ ) mouth pulled into a thoughtful scowl, those piercing eyes for once cutting away from his own- and Fai had always fallen to temptation far too easily, adding a stolen kiss while the children were distracted ( _and reasonably so; Sakura-chan was a sweet, intelligent girl who had yet to learn how to keep her foot on the brake pedal_ ) to the long list of beautiful mistakes he’d made on this journey.

There were a number of factors in his defence, however; upon first meeting the man in the witch’s yard he had no way of knowing that Kurogane would flush such a delightful shade of pink when teased, or that the shuddering moan that trickled through his teeth when he crested pleasure’s last peak would be so damn addictive. That Fai had first let himself linger on a flash of rippling muscle beneath tanned skin (so  _unlike anything he’d ever seen before, Ashura so pale and beautiful and not nearly as_ primal _when compared to the warrior in front of him_ ) as the other man changed into the clothes Sorata had given them in Hanshin- well, that was Kurogane’s fault, really; it wasn’t like the ninja couldn’t have made him leave the room before unbuckling his armour and letting his cloak pool like a forgotten shadow on the floor.

Seeing Kurogane hammering nails into Chunyuan’s broken rooftop in Koryu, sweating and honest as the sun beat down across that broad back had only been fuel for the flame. And besides, it wasn’t like  _his_ eyes were the only ones catching on exposed skin and the glittering promise in another’s gaze; Fai could read desire written in red eyes just as well as he could read anger and something a little like disappointment when Outo’s oni had caught him off-guard and sent him tumbling into a crumble of masonry at the ninja’s feet. He could have hardly helped starting to fall for the man when those big hands ( _half the reason he’d called the man big puppy in the first place, too-big paws to match with that amusing way he snarled his words_ ) had curled so gently about his waist and slung him effortlessly over one shoulder- though being dropped like a sack of potatoes onto the pavement later had  _not_  been a point in Kurogane’s favour.

Yama had piled on complications as much as it freed inhibitions; it had been too easy to let himself believe that they would forever be caught in the cycle of fighting and drinking and sex and wordless whispering in the buttery, melting warmth of lantern light as Kurogane’s mouth trailed wet, burning lines across his skin each night, tracing symbols that Fai would never understand ( _across the trembling flat of his stomach, the hollow of his shaking arm, the quivering depression at the base of his throat, the shivering inside of his thighs_ ) with a wicked tongue. And the rough comfort that he soon found in Kurogane’s embrace had almost been enough to make him forget that his silence was not a choice, that he had things to do and lives to give back to their rightful owners- that such a sweet distraction like this was only that, a distraction and nothing more.

But it had been so sweet, like few things had been in his life, sweet and heady and  _intoxicating_ ; slaked a thirst he’d thought well hidden, driven him back from the brink of loneliness and given him a fierce joy in place of the dark thoughts that normally clouded his nights. In the worlds before Yama, he’d been playing at love, teasing and twisting away from its hooks and nets- it wasn’t until that first flash of pride and trust and belief had coloured black eyes as they circled back-to-back in battle ( _pride that it was_ him _at Kurogane’s side and no one else; trust that Fai would and could defend the ninja from any blows that slipped under his guard and sheer, breathtaking_ belief _that Fai not only understood all of this but felt the same_ )  that he realised he’d been caught and bound right from the very start. In that moment of startling clarity he’d found himself the played rather than the player, and perhaps his hands had clutched all the more desperately at Kurogane’s strong back when he was tumbled to their mess of sheets that night.

It wasn’t his fault. It  _wasn’t_  his fault.  _It wasn’t his fault_ \- he’d tried to be  _so good_ , tried to tease and tempt to distract and distance himself in the pursuit of his goals. He could not have expected that all of his good intentions would fall to nothing against the affection and possession the ninja battered his stronghold with, set his castle to crumbling down and re-bricked his walls with hope; every kiss, each stolen, improbable caress ( _that a man like him could be loved, that someone like Kurogane could love him at all, that the words he sighed into the crook of the other’s neck as he writhed in that undeserved embrace were truth dragged from the shadows of his heart and matched with an honesty he could not possibly deserve_ ) had been just another step in Kurogane’s absolute conquest of everything he was.

He hadn’t meant for any of this, hadn’t  _dared_  to dream for it, had never thought that such  _happiness_  could be his own- but now that he had it,  _oh_ , he’d fight  _the gods themselves_  to keep it.

* * *

“You know, one day they’re going to catch us. And when they do, it’ll be  _all your fault_ , and then  _you_  can be the one to explain to our children what, exactly, daddy has been doing in the workshop to make mummy scream like  _that_.” The scolding tone that threaded his words would have been more believable if Fai hadn’t been panting, body trembling on the edge of exhaustion as he spiralled slowly down from his third orgasm for the night, feeling tingling sensation return in prickling waves to his extremities as his burning blood flooded back from where it had pooled heatedly in his loins.

As it was, Kurogane just grunted in response, nuzzling into the sweat-slick hair that curled in a tangled mess across the polished hood of the racer and pressing a lazy, open mouthed kiss to the pulse that leapt erratically in Fai’s throat. Calloused fingers smoothed down sweating thighs, reaching behind the ninja’s own back to unhook Fai’s ankles from about his waist; he was in no state to complain when Kurogane eased their bodies apart ( _gently, so gently, such a contradiction to the welcome roughness of not ten minutes before_ ) and lifted him up to splay loose-limbed across the sloping metal.

“You don’t have to be so loud if you don’t want to,” came the belated response, and Fai just sighed as the ninja snatched a mercifully clean towel from the cupboards beneath the work bench and wiped him down with considerable care, something like warmth and fondness curling in his belly as the other man dropped brief, chaste kisses on the bruises he’d branded into Fai’s hips ( _ten perfect marks for ten strong fingers_ ) and lifted him again to sit on the towel, still naked and quite content to remain so for the time being. “You know I wouldn’t care if you were silent.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” said Fai, accepting the jacket he was offered ( _his shirt had been torn off sometime earlier and he had no idea where it was now_ ) with a cheeky grin he just  _knew_  was dazzling if the flush that snaked up the ninja’s neck and spilled across his bare chest was anything to go by, “and besides, where would be the fun in that? You  _like_  it when I scream for you.”

The wicked edge to the other man’s smirk made his toes curl against cool metal. “True.” Taking a swig from the sake bottle ( _which had survived unharmed by bouncing onto a pile of rags in the corner when Fai had dropped his tray_ ), Kurogane made a noise of appreciation before pressing cool glass into Fai’s hand. “It’s good. Thank you.”

The unguarded affection in the man’s voice should not have been as nearly as surprising as it was ( _it was one thing to love someone but another entirely to be loved in return_ ), and if the light that glowed in brilliant ruby was something to judge by, his answering smile as he took the proffered bottle ( _small, fragile but absolutely real_ ) must have really been something.

“You’re welcome, Kuro-chi.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written a while ago for the Angst v.s. Fluff Olympics in the KuroFai fandom for the prompt 'Good Intentions'; while I was technically a participant, I was also an understudy, and thus didn't actually contribute in any major way. That said, I still wrote some stuff for a couple of the prompts, and this ended up as a short one shot for the prompt Good Intentions. However, since my mind has a tendency to trip merrily down the random tangent paths that underpin everything I do, we got this :/ Don't even ask me where the fluff went, lol.


End file.
